Date Night: An Absolutely Gripping Psychological Thriller With a Jaw-Dropping Twist Read online

  The detective explains briefly to the sergeant what happened, why I’ve been arrested, what will happen now. Then the desk sergeant asks me if I understand why I’m here, why I’ve been arrested, repeating it back to me.

  I nod, barely perceptibly, staring at my feet, even though I don’t understand at all.

  I haven’t done anything wrong! I want to yell over and over, but remember that I can choose to say nothing, that I can just keep quiet. I imagine what Sean would tell me if he were here, watching as my handcuffs are removed.

  We’ve been through that night a thousand times, love… Just tell it like it is…

  I stretch out my arms, rotating my hands before cupping my aching skull. I drop forward onto the desk, my forehead banging down heavily, a sob coming out.

  ‘Stand up, please,’ someone says.

  Quickly, I do as I’m told.

  Empty your pockets, please. Take off your belt… have you had any alcohol in the last twenty-four hours? Are you under the influence of non-prescription drugs? Do you take any medication? Who’s your next of kin?

  The questions go on and on, and, while I can answer these without much thought, I know they’re only going to get harder.

  ‘Who is your next of kin, please?’ the custody sergeant repeats, tapping the counter.

  ‘We only went out for a meal,’ I whisper, tears in my eyes. ‘It… it was meant to make things better. Clear the air.’

  And suddenly I’m back there. In the pub restaurant, the fire blazing, our smiles burning even hotter between us as we ripped open the warm focaccia to share, a bottle of red wine half gone already, our eyes not letting go of each other, knowing that when we got back to the cottage later we’d be tearing our clothes off, making love as if we were the only two people left in the world. The note completely forgotten. Never mentioned again, and all it took was a night out.

  Except that’s not what happened. Not even close.

  ‘Sean Randell,’ I say quietly. ‘My husband,’ I add, as if I’m convincing myself who he is, not them.

  Seven

  Before

  ‘You look stunning,’ Sean said, coming up behind Libby, running his hands down her waist and onto her bottom. He gave her a light smack and kissed her neck. Libby watched them both in the full-length mirror in the bedroom, wrapping her hand up around his neck as his body melded against hers. They’d always been a good fit.

  ‘Why, thank you, Mr Randell. You don’t look half bad yourself.’ She gave him a kiss, tasting the wine they’d opened while they got ready. But then she stopped, not wanting to smudge her make-up. She’d made an extra special effort for tonight, knowing that the evening wasn’t all about Sean doing the right thing – him putting her mind at rest about the note. It was also about them reconnecting, taking time out for themselves. Since she’d confronted him about it, things had been tense on and off, mainly because of her, she realised. Insecurities that she’d thought were long buried had reared up. It had been a long time since she’d thought of David, all the turmoil he’d brought into her life.

  ‘What time is Sasha due?’ Sean said, glancing at his watch. He’d booked the table for eight but they were going to have a cocktail in the bar first. Something they used to do regularly before Alice came along.

  Libby was about to reply ‘any minute now’, when they heard a knock at the front door.

  ‘Speak of the devil,’ Sean said, grabbing their empty glasses and heading downstairs to let their babysitter in.

  Libby doused on some perfume and quickly sprayed her hair again, running her fingers through the long dark strands. She grabbed her jacket – a favourite deep-indigo fake-fur find from the dress agency in Chipping Norton – slipping it on over the above-the-knee black dress she’d bought last year but only worn a couple of times. She knew Sean loved her in it, the way it clung to her body – not in an obvious way, but just enough to show off what lay beneath. With knee-length boots and a scarf loosely draped around her neck, Libby gave one last glance in the mirror before she went downstairs. She reckoned she looked good, conscious that they’d likely bump into a few people they knew, and conscious, too, of wanting to look her very best, to show the world that she was Sean’s woman, that she was attractive, desirable, sexy. Just in case the other woman, if there even was one, was watching.

  The barmaid, the waitress, someone else’s wife…

  If anyone was making a play for Sean, she wasn’t about to take it lying down. She would be quite clear that she belonged to Sean and he belonged to her. That they were a team and nothing would come between them. Not even a stupid anonymous note.

  It was when Sean had found Libby crying in the barn kitchen, blindly chopping up bundles of fresh herbs, a couple of days earlier, that he’d suggested a meal out. He’d taken her by the shoulders, wiping her face.

  ‘Hey,’ he’d said softly. ‘You’ve got nothing to worry about, OK?’ Then he suggested they had a special night together, just the two of them at their favourite place. It would be romantic, he said. Just what they needed. And something to put a big full stop at the end of this nonsense.

  ‘Nothing’s going on, I promise,’ he’d said a thousand times, cupping her face. ‘You’re the only woman in my life.’

  In return, she’d stared up at him, her eyes blurry from tears, trying to read what was behind his, searching for the truth and looking for lies. But all she saw was the man she loved. Just as she always had.

  ‘I know,’ she’d replied, sniffing and kissing him back. ‘I know.’

  ‘Hey, Sash,’ Libby said when she went down into the living room. ‘How are things with you? It seems like ages since I last saw you.’ In reality, it was only just over a week ago when Sasha had helped serve a dinner for a group of bankers up at the big house between their village and Chipping Norton. Sasha had never once let her down, with her polite, careful and efficient manner winning over the clients as well as being invaluable to Libby. She’d tried out other local girls, and a couple of boys, who wanted part-time jobs, but no one worked as hard or competently as Sasha. And, being a student, the hourly rate was affordable for Libby, though she always made sure Sasha got a cut of any tips from the customers.

  ‘Hi,’ Sasha said back, glancing up from the sofa before turning away again. ‘You look nice.’ She’d already taken out a couple of college books from her backpack, spreading them out on the wooden table in front of the log burner. It wasn’t a huge living room – only space for one comfy sofa and an armchair, plus the little table and a small TV beside the inglenook, but it was perfect for the three of them.

  ‘Thanks,’ Libby replied, grinning and giving a little twirl. ‘A much-needed date night,’ she half-whispered with a wink, expecting Sasha to play along. When they worked together, they often enjoyed silly banter and chatting, including topics such as boyfriends, clothes and, even once or twice, sex when Sasha had needed advice. Libby hoped that her relationship with Sasha was how it would be with Alice when she was a teenager – honest and open between mother and daughter. She knew that Sasha’s mum had had a few problems lately and wasn’t always there for her. While Libby didn’t want to stick her nose in, she felt that Sasha occasionally looked to her for advice that should have come from Jan. Libby wasn’t sure how much Sasha knew about her mum’s situation and hoped that any gossip going around the village hadn’t got back to her daughter.

  Sasha stared at Libby. Her face was blank, with no silly comment back about the ‘date night’ or even any of the teasing she would have expected from her. Sasha might only be seventeen, nearly eighteen, but she was going on forty when it came to conversation.

  ‘Sash?’

  ‘Cool,’ she replied quietly, taking her pencil case from her backpack.

  Libby paused, wondering if things had perhaps got more tense at home. She thought Sasha looked a bit pale, tired almost, and hoped she wouldn’t fall asleep while looking after Alice. Her daughter had been prone to coming downstairs lately, asking for water or milk or just wa
nting attention, and would be more likely to get up if she knew Sasha was there. She was like a big sister to her, and loved it when Sasha came over if Marion was unavailable.

  Sasha tapped a pen on her teeth as she opened a maths textbook, staring into space.

  ‘Much college work to do?’ Libby asked. She knew she wanted to go to university to be an engineer.

  ‘Yup,’ Sasha replied, looking at her book.

  ‘Sash,’ Libby continued, sitting on the arm of the sofa. She placed a hand on the girl’s back. ‘Is everything OK? You seem a bit…’ Libby wasn’t sure how to describe it, just that she sensed something was wrong.

  Sasha slowly turned and looked up at Libby, her eyes drawing together in a frown. She was just about to say something when a car hooted outside. She snapped her mouth closed.

  ‘That’ll be the taxi,’ Libby said. ‘Sean?’ she called out in the direction of the kitchen. ‘Cab’s here, hurry up.’ Sean had offered to drive – the Land Rover was back from the garage now – but Libby had insisted that they both relax and share a bottle of wine.

  No reply. She knew he was in there. She could hear him clattering about as if he’d just come in from the back and was now doing something at the fridge. She heard the rattle of bottles as he closed the door. Libby was just about to call out again when he came into the living room from the kitchen.

  ‘Taxi’s here, love,’ she said.

  ‘All ready?’ Sean replied, coat on, house keys to hand. He patted his pocket, took out his phone, checked it and tucked it away again. Then he took out some cash from his inside jacket pocket. ‘Put this in your purse, will you, love?’

  ‘Yes, yes I’m ready,’ Libby replied, standing, not taking her eyes off Sasha until she had to. She took the money from Sean, putting it away safely. ‘Any problems, give me a call,’ Libby said, giving Sasha’s shoulder a little stroke. ‘I’ve left some food for you in the fridge. It’s in the labelled plastic container.’

  Sasha nodded and watched as they left, Libby noticing how Sean gave her a last glance over his shoulder before he closed the door behind him.

  Eight

  ‘I’d forgotten how much I bloody love this place,’ Sean said, his face breaking into a smile as they paid the taxi driver and went inside the Old Fox. Chalwell was only a couple of miles from Great Lyne, but too far to walk on a night out, especially in heeled boots. Well, Libby thought, as she mulled over what Sean had just said. It’s too far for me to walk, but clearly not him. She knew Sean had stumbled back across the fields more than once recently after meeting his mates for a few pints. It wasn’t something he did often, and Libby didn’t mind in the least, but something was off about what he’d just said.

  ‘I thought you were here only last week?’ she said, tapping the low beam on the way to the bar, reminding Sean to duck his head. ‘Hardly enough time to forget you like the place, is it?’ She hesitated, watching him as he drew up to the bar, suddenly feeling light-headed, unsure if it was from the heat of the blazing log fire or the warm, beery smell that seemed to have soaked into the very fabric of the building. While there was usually something comforting about it, tonight she almost felt repulsed by it, as if it was the stench of something she wasn’t a part of, rather than the familiar smell of everything (and everyone) local she’d grown to love these last few years.

  ‘Was it only last week?’ Sean said, turning to the bar. He clearly wasn’t expecting a reply, but Libby gave him one anyway.

  ‘Yes, yes it was,’ she said, but he pretended not to hear. Instead, he passed her a cocktail menu and ordered a pint of Hooky for himself. While the Old Fox was as typical a Cotswolds pub as they came – a mellow ginger-stone building with a low part-thatched, part-tiled roof, beamed ceilings and open fires – the owner liked to cater for all, tourists included, and regularly put on tapas nights, cocktail evenings, live music, barbecues in the summer and even hosted the occasional wedding reception if there was a ceremony in the village church.

  ‘Just a glass of white wine for me please, Mick,’ Libby said to the landlord, placing the menu down on the bar. She suddenly didn’t feel in the mood for cocktails.

  ‘Sure?’ Sean said, leaning on the bar. He frowned when Libby nodded. They went and sat at a small table near the fire, the heat of it warming one side of Libby’s face as they sipped their drinks. She stared around, giving a quick wave to a couple they knew a few tables away and mouthing ‘hello’ to a farmer she recognised from Great Lyne. Several other familiar faces were dotted around, the man from another couple giving Sean a pat on the back as they passed, exchanging a few words about a livestock case he’d dealt with.

  ‘Well,’ Libby said when they were alone again. ‘This is nice, isn’t it?’ She didn’t mean for it to come out as it did – her words terse her voice even more strained as she sat up straight on her stool, her legs crossed. She sipped her wine, thinking she perhaps should have chosen one of the amusingly named cocktails on the menu to get in the mood. But even her favourite at the Old Fox – the Cotswolds Cosmo – didn’t tempt her right now. Despite her best efforts to keep it in check, her mood had been up and down since she’d received the note.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ Sean replied warmly, his eyes narrowing as he reached out and took her hand. She squeezed his fingers back. ‘Everything OK with Sasha just now?’ he asked, nodding at the lad who worked at the garage as he passed them, heading for the toilets.

  ‘I think so,’ Libby replied. ‘Though she did seem a bit… I dunno, out of sorts. A bit quiet and thoughtful. Did you notice?’

  Sean swallowed, even though he hadn’t taken a sip. ‘Not especially. Does she have exams looming?’

  ‘Not until next year, as far as I know,’ Libby said, shifting her stool away from the fire, moving closer to Sean. He smiled, encasing her hand tighter within his big palm.

  ‘Well, you know what teenage girls are like, eh?’ he replied.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said, giving him a smile. ‘I do.’ Though she couldn’t help noticing how he kept pulling his hand away to touch his nose. And his eyes were anywhere but on hers.

  ‘All right, mate?’ Sean said as someone Libby vaguely recognised sat down in the window seat near them. His wife joined them, bending down to give Sean a kiss on each cheek.

  ‘Long time no see, Seany,’ she said, her bright-red lips flashing a broad smile at him. She glanced quickly at Libby, who was about to smile and say hello, but the woman turned to Sean again. ‘Missed you last week, you know. The team wasn’t the same without you. I need those quick wits on my side next time, OK?’

  Seany…

  Libby felt something stirring inside as the woman’s low-cut top revealed her bra as she leant down close to Sean. She felt her shoulders tensing, and tried to think of something witty to say that would end what the woman seemed to think was an intimate moment with her husband.

  ‘Leave the poor chap alone, will you, Di?’ the man she was with called over from the window seat, saving Libby the trouble. He rolled his eyes and grinned at Sean. ‘Can’t take her anywhere, can I?’ he joked.

  Libby forced a laugh, catching the woman’s eye again, which was accompanied by a small smile. Almost pitying, Libby thought.

  ‘Don’t be a stranger, Seany,’ the woman said, giving Sean’s shoulder a squeeze before joining her husband.

  Libby stared at Sean for a moment, not even feeling the flicker of a smile that would normally have accompanied such an encounter. It might once have been funny, but since the note it just left her feeling sick. She leant forward and wiped her thumb across each of Sean’s cheeks.

  ‘Lipstick,’ she said quietly, cleaning her thumb on a paper napkin. She sipped her drink, noticing how her hand shook as she held her glass. Don’t ruin the night, she told herself. He’s trying to make everything OK. Why would he even bother taking me out if there was any truth to the note? This final thought had only just occurred to Libby but, as she listened to Sean telling her about his day, she realised it was true. Surely any
man who wasn’t invested in his wife, who had lost interest, wouldn’t be hell-bent on making her feel secure and wanted? If it were the other way around, she’d certainly be doing the same.

  As Sean went into detail about an operation he’d performed earlier, Libby finally felt herself relaxing. Perhaps it was the wine, or maybe the warmth of the fire and the familiar faces offering welcoming waves and smiles across the low-beamed bar, or perhaps simply being in the presence of her husband. Either way, she decided she would forget about the note and concentrate on the man she loved deeply – the man she knew loved her back just as much.

  ‘Your table is ready,’ a young waitress in a white shirt and short black skirt said, drawing up beside them. Libby couldn’t help giving her a quick look up and down. She wasn’t much more than sixteen, a little younger than Sasha. She’d got a rip in her black tights and she kept trying to wriggle her clingy short skirt down to cover it up, but it kept riding up again. ‘Shall I carry your drinks through?’ she added.

  ‘Thank you,’ Sean replied, gathering his and Libby’s coats. He watched as the girl walked off, leading the way to the restaurant at the rear of the pub. As surreptitiously as she could, Libby tracked where Sean’s gaze fell and it certainly wasn’t on the girl’s legs, even though she was pretty and attracting stares from several young guys who’d come in for a pint.

  ‘This is lovely,’ Libby said, once they’d settled down at the table. ‘I’m starving.’

  ‘Me too,’ Sean said, rubbing his foot against Libby’s leg. ‘I’m so glad we’ve found the time to do this.’

  ‘It’s been all work a bit lately, hasn’t it?’

  Sean nodded, agreeing. ‘I’m so proud of what you’re doing with the business,’ he said, taking a menu from the waitress. ‘But I don’t want you burning yourself out.’